What should I do if the hero is resurrected in the Monster Girl Encyclopedia?

Chapter 89 The Stranger (18)

That was when Mirad had received the blessing of the chief god's hero and had already become famous in the land of Cretea.

Mirad remembered it clearly; it was an ordinary autumn. Farmers were busy picking grapes, figs, and olives, His Majesty the King was considering the location and routes for a new port, and the bishop who had adopted him was discussing with the Dionysian Order a Dionysian festival to celebrate the grape harvest.

Mirand was finally able to fulfill his promise to train with his old friend.

There was a time when the overly energetic old bishop was the second most frequent variable in his daily life.

The old man had a muscular, bronze-colored body and bushy white hair like a lion's mane.

He always liked to stand shirtless, carrying that old cross that could be considered a national treasure of Créteil, in the most crowded part of the market, and preach the doctrines of the Lord God in a booming voice.

Regardless of the freezing cold or scorching heat, the old man never missed a day... and he never wore clothes that covered his upper body.

The old man often said that this was the best form of publicity.

If you have faith in the Lord God, you can be as healthy as He Himself.

Milad strongly agreed.

...It would be even better if the old man didn't always throw him a bottle of fine olive oil when he was training hard, his body steaming with heat, his muscles sore but feeling great.

"Milad, my devout child! Apply it quickly, for the Lord God needs you to display the perfect form He has bestowed upon you!"

The old man's booming voice could carry across most of the training ground, so Mirad had no choice but to obediently stop all his movements, and under the teasing and sympathetic gaze of his old friend, he took off his upper armor and jogged over.

The old man would usually have a big smile on his face, "Quick, quick, child, apply it all! Let the world see how strong the body and how radiant the skin can be for the devout!"

"...This is something I trained myself. Old man, in Logan's words, this is deceptive advertising."

Although he would verbally object, he would obediently smear himself with oil to look like a freshly roasted chicken and stand next to the old man as a living propaganda tool.

...And then you have to ignore those old friends who deliberately walk around in front of you, whose mocking expressions become even more obvious every time they inadvertently pass by.

Mirad considers himself a hero, and this kind of propaganda should boost the public's confidence in facing monsters... probably.

In any case, those days are finally over. The old man has been arguing with those Dionysian believers who advocate living for the moment, which has made Mirand's life much easier.

Inside the stadium.

Mirad practiced footwork and dodging with his old friend, who lacked practical combat experience, for a while, until his friend was drenched in sweat, took off his helmet, waved his hand and said he was completely exhausted before he stopped.

His gray hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his old friend was panting heavily. "Damn... is this the benefit of the Blessing of the Hero you were talking about? I can't see through your attacks at all..."

Mirad bent down to pick up the helmet that the other person had thrown on the ground, placed it on a nearby shelf, and then handed the other person a bottle of water.

"No. I wouldn't use the power of the Hero's Blessing in our daily training."

Cretia values ​​sports and a healthy physique, so it's rare to find someone like this, an adult who knows nothing about combat. It also confirms his old friend's claim that his hometown is a remote land free of monsters. "So, 70%? 60%?... You can't have used less than 50% of your strength, can you? I've been training for so long, and my blisters have burst more than ten times."

"...You've used less than a tenth of what you said."

Mirad said softly, trying not to hurt the other person's pride.

Although what is said is still excessive, it is still better than keeping it from the other person.

"I told you all are monsters... Although I don't train like those sports students every day, I still run more than ten laps around the track after school every day, and I even broke records at the school sports meet!"

"Don't be so impatient, Logan. You can feel your own progress, right? By the way, do you have sports meets where you are?"

Mirad scrutinized the arms and waist of the person in front of him, and indeed, there were some muscle definition there compared to when they first met.

"Yes, but it's not like here where it's held in the name of worshipping the main god. How should I put it... I participated in a small competition at school. The coach said I could win in the city and provincial competitions, but my schoolwork is just too heavy, and I don't need to be a level two athlete, so I didn't go..."

Logan rested his chin on his hand and thought for a moment, "Speaking of which... Mirad, tell me secretly, is the real name of the chief god you worship really not Jupiter or Zeus? Asking for a name shouldn't be a big deal... The gods shouldn't be that petty, right?"

“I’ve said it many times, Logan. The supreme deities are not bound by a single name. Although calling them by name will certainly get their attention… they won’t hold a grudge against mortals,”

Mirad shook his head. "Let me repeat myself. This isn't Greece, Athens, or Rome, and there's no Mediterranean Sea as you mentioned... We call that sea surrounded by continents the Land Sea. I had someone look up those stories you keep quoting. Logan, you must be a resident of the Mist Continent, right? It's so far away, maps and information can be inaccurate, that's normal."

"Ugh, this is so weird! The god of love is Eros, the god of war is Ares, the god of blacksmithing is Hephaestus, and the god of the sea is Poseidon... Why isn't the chief god named Jupiter or Zeus?!"

My old friend scratched his hair, looking pained, "Even as a science student, my OCD kicked in when I found out about this!"

Mirand spread his hands. Logan always seemed to struggle with these kinds of common-sense questions; he'd slowly grown accustomed to his friend's peculiarities. Perhaps, as Logan himself said, somewhere there really was Athens, Greece, and the Mediterranean.

"Would you like to go see the fleet? Perhaps there are people from your country who would like to take you home."

He and Logan first met at the beach.

Mirad had just finished a day of training when he saw a distraught, strangely dressed unidentified person standing on the shore.

...It feels like if we don't do anything about it, that guy is going to jump into the sea and commit suicide.

Before such a thought even formed in Mirad's mind, he had already unconsciously turned his feet and moved closer to the unknown person.

Mirad patted the other man on the shoulder, and then saw the latter turn his head stiffly, his eyes filled with disbelief, and even his words were incoherent, stammering and stuck in his throat.
"Why, a sailboat, a mast... a hull...? This isn't right... why are they all there at the same time?"

He's still the same as now, spouting nonsensical nonsense.

However, this person will starve to death if he doesn't eat something soon.

Since he was helping someone, Mirad simply took the burden without resistance, muttering "Impossible, this is impossible..." all the way back to the Church of the Lord God.

After that... the old bishop adopted another "child".

(End of this chapter)